


To Kill an Angel

by HeraNightShade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Episode 10x22 Coda, I don't know what else to tag just read it, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, No Major Character Death, Please Don't Hate Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraNightShade/pseuds/HeraNightShade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 10x22. Because that ending scene was heart wrenching and I nearly choked thinking that Dean was going to kill Cas. This is my first work on AO3 and in Supernatural, so please be warned. I would really appreciate feedback since I'm new to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Kill an Angel

All that races through my mind is the crypt. Dean was able to get through to me, to get me to come back to him before I was too far gone. 

I need to do the same for him, I need for him to be in the right mind for just a few moments so he can understand what he’s done, what he’s about to continue doing if he doesn’t get a hold of himself.

I try to talk to him, try to get him to realize that the boy he shot was simply a kid, had no choice who his family was—my father doesn’t give anyone that choice. Didn’t give me that choice. 

I know that the Dean that told me not to wipe out an entire town for the sake of one witch has to be in there somewhere, I just have to make him come back to me. I can still see the brightness of his soul, though it is covered in an angry crimson color, staining it seemingly irreparably. I need to wash his hands of the blood he spilled today, need him to stop. 

The first blow is a shock, but the fact that he is actually able to hurt me proves that his humanity has been buried even deeper than I thought. As he continues to hit me, I simply let him, only attempting defensive maneuvers that don’t do much good. I simply cannot hurt him, cannot fathom the idea of hurting the Righteous Man I raised from perdition all those years ago. 

It was so much easier when the only mark on him was my own. Oh, how the times have changed. 

When he finally delivers the blow that knocks me on my back, I simply lay there, staring at him as he moves to get my Angel Blade. 

A million things go through my mind at once—the first time we met in hell, the first time we met on Earth, our first real conversation in that kitchen, Anna’s scent lingering on Dean for just a bit too long, the green room, Chuck’s house, my death, raising Sam, the whore house, dying again, working with Crowley, dying once more, going insane, Purgatory, Naomi, Metatron, humanity, Hannah, the Mark. They all play simultaneously before my eyes, my greatest hits as Dean would have put it before the Mark. 

I know then that the only way I could know for certain if the Dean I fell from Heaven for, turned my back on my family for, is still inside him, is to allow him to choose—kill me or spare me. For I do not wish to live in a world where the Righteous Man I saved hates me enough to end my existence. 

When my blade is pierced through the book near my head, I have to stare at it for what seems like my entire life before I met the Winchesters. Before I became more human than the man standing in front of me. For I know that I’m more human than angel at this point, no matter what Rowena says.

I barely hear his parting words, none of them processing as I heal myself and slowly sit up, hearing Dean’s footfalls going toward his room. I robotically remove the blade from the book, placing it in my inside pocket for a reason I don’t yet understand as I stare in the direction Dean walked away from me. 

Dean once called me a hammer. It took a while for me to comprehend just what he was talking about, I had to pray about it for a few hours before I realized. That was the moment it all started to change. I didn’t want to be the hammer, I didn’t want life to be only hammers and nails.

Now, it is Dean who is the hammer, thinking the world is black and white, that he is still one of the “good guys” when he is falling faster and harder than I did from Heaven. I fear this will be the time when I’m not able to save him. 

I move to the two dead men laying on the floor, whispering a prayer over their corpses before I snap my fingers to put all the books and clothes back in their original places.  
Finally, I realize that my question was answered: Dean consciously decided not to kill me. His bloodied soul has to have some of his essence still caged beneath the outer layer doused in the Mark. I have my answer, and I know what I must do. 

With one last glance around, I walk to the door, ripping off my tie as I go and throwing it on the railing just before I exit, unbuttoning a few buttons as I replace the door. 

It seems I know what my next mission is: save Dean Winchester. 

I fear this time it won’t be as easy as gripping him tightly and flying out of Hell. 

I’m going to need someone powerful enough to remove it once and for all, and since I know my father isn’t anywhere to be found—I already searched far and wide when the apocalypse was on the horizon—I realize I’m going to need to find the only being older than my father himself. I’m going to need the being who ends the lives my father gives.

Death, I am coming for you. For angels don’t fear death, and Dean means more to me than life.


End file.
